


Tower of paper

by Nekef



Series: Tumblr prompts [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, One Shot, Sweet, istantly falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekef/pseuds/Nekef
Summary: Another prompt from tumblr: Bookstore au / meet messy / “need help with that?”
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Series: Tumblr prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/506056
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	Tower of paper

There has always been something undefinable about bookshops which seduces Clarke. To the point that, whenever she comes across one of them along the streets, she feels the compulsive need to go inside. She can’t explain what’s so endearing, maybe is the scent of new, precisely cut paper and printed ink. Maybe, it’s the sequence of different colored covers methodically disposed on the shelves. Or even, the thrilling expectation of finding a new world hidden between the pages.

The shop is new and freshly opened. The storefront had been empty and dusty for over a year, until one day, passing by, Clarke saw newspapers scattered all over the thick glass.

And finally, that morning, she has the chance to visit the bookshop.

She looks around herself, cherishing the view of wooden shelves alongside exposed brick walls, enlightened by modern pot lights. Over her head solid timber beams are built in the ceiling.

Clarke silently steps along the aisles, absently reading titles written in different fonts. The books are divided by genre and disposed in alphabetical order, the blonde girl looks at the categories, engraved on the wooden bookshelves, to find the one she’s interested in.

She fixes the strap of her cotton satchel over her shoulder, and the sound of the bag bumping into something makes her head follow the sound.

There’s a pile of books, which probably where carefully disposed to stand in a column, collapsing toward her.

“Shit.” The word slips between her lips while she jumps in an attempt to save the tower from crumbling.

She hugs the stack and ears a couple of volumes hitting the parquet at her feet.

“ _Shit._ ”

She thanks God that, at that hour of the morning, she is the only customer in the shop. But that also means no one is coming to help her.

Clarke feels her satchel slide along her arm, halting its path only when it reaches the crook of her elbow. It’s heavy, full of textbooks she has planned to study in the afternoon, and it makes her muscles tremble. An unpleasant sensation runs along her veins and she doesn’t understand if she will end up crying or laughing.

“Need help?”

The question startles her, and another book collapses on the floor. Clarke tries to look at the source of the voice, but her sight is completely blocked by the books.

“No!” She shouts, panicking at the idea of someone seeing her, her voice an octave higher than usual, “I mean, no, thank you, I’m good.” She corrects herself, deepening her tone.

“You’re good.” Clarke can feel the amusement in that feminine voice. She guesses the woman is the clerk, or worse the owner, of the bookshop, since there are no other costumers.

The blonde girl snorts, as if she’s offended by the stranger’s skepticism. “Yeah, I’m just… putting these books back.”

Isn’t that _obvious_ ?

Clarke’s muscles are tense and vibrating like a bow ready to shot. She can feel her tendons, stretched at their maximum limit, burn in that unhealthy position.

“I see… and how do you plan to do it exactly?”

“Well, I still haven’t figured that out, but I’ll find a solution.”

There’s an everlasting moment of silence and the young artist wonders if the girl is going to laugh, leave or yell at her. She intensely hopes it’s either the first or the second option.

In the end, it’s none of them, “You can just let them fall you know. I can put them back in order.”

“You sure?” Clarke tentatively asks. She is so happy to hear those words that she swears to God she’ll start to believe in him after that day.

“I am.”

Clarke sighs out of relief and swiftly steps aside. The paper tower completes her fall and multiple covers hit the ground at the same time. She looks at the books scattered all over the floor with a sorrowful gaze and immediately crouches. Her cheeks are burning, completely set aflame by the embarrassment and her hands start to rapidly gather the books, trying to collect them in the shortest possible time.

“It’s not necessary, really, they’re only books.” The girl’s voice is now calm, deep and Clarke feels her cheeks burn even with more intensity when one hand is suddenly on her shoulder, lightly squeezing it through her coat.

The blonde sighs, leaving the books to their own destiny on the parquet. She picks up her bag before standing and, finally, she raises her eyes to see the mysterious girl.

A pair of jade irises gleam behind tortoise glasses which rest upon a straight nose. Brown strands are interlocked in braids and her full lips are bended in a grin, while she reaches out to introduce herself. Her hand is long and tapered and, when Clarke touches it, she feels dry, warm skin under her palm.

“I’m Lexa.” Her handshake is firm but gentle.

“Clarke… thank you for saving me.”

Lexa shrugs, hiding her hands in the back pockets of her jeans “I have a passion for saving pretty damsels in distress”

“I’m hardly a damsel,” Clarke mockingly answers, rolling her eyes. She gestures towards the sea of paper at her feet, “I’m so sorry for the books, I’m an idiot… I hope your boss won’t get mad.”

Lexa studies her face, her gaze falling on the beauty mark above Clarke’s lip. It drives her insane.

She bites her cheek, both to call herself back to reality and not to underline that, even if Clarke is not a damsel, she’s however quite pretty. “I’m the boss, so I’m pretty sure I will not fire myself.”

The brunette smiles, raising one side of her lips, and the way it dimples her cheeks makes Clarke almost uncomfortable. She looks away, clearing her voice.

Not only she has destroyed half of her store, but now she’s also thirsting after her like a deprived child in front of a hot meal.

“Are you sure you don’t want help with this mess?” Clarke croaks, gripping with both hands the shoulder strap of her bag like it’s some sort of handhold.

Lexa lightly shakes her head “I am… I should have known it was a dumb disposition. I’ll put them somewhere else later.”

Clarke bites her bottom lip, pensively fiddling with the unstitched cotton strands coming out from the worn-out bag, “Can I at least buy you a coffee?”

She sounds too hopeful even to her own ears.

Lexa fixes her glasses upon her nose, closing her eyes for a moment, as if she’s considering the offer. When she looks at Clarke again, she smiles, failing to hide a satisfied smirk.

“It’s a date, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Interact with me on tumblr! @italianlexa


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